Live and Let Die
by FarWriter
Summary: With Raccoon City becoming the foreground of bioterrorism, Shirou Emiya found himself in the middle of it along with its survivors. Now, he must find a way to escape and defeat the horrors lurking in the shadows of the city. (Resident Evil 2)
1. Chapter 1

The Resident Evil franchise is owned by Capcom. The Fate series is owned by Type-Moon and all characters portrayed here belong to their owners. This is a work of fiction.

* * *

The thrum of the Harley Davidson in which Claire Redfield rode brought butterflies to her stomach and a pain in her butt. She was exhausted, sore and worst of all, she forgot to bring her jacket. Once she arrives at the station, she expects for her brother, Chris, to give her an earful.

Claire trailed the dark roads, treading every corner with care and passing every shadow-laden tree. The highway leads down to Raccoon City where her brother is a member of the Special Tactics and Rescue Services. A couple of weeks back, the gnawing notion that her brother is in trouble made her go here. She couldn't give two shits about the city as long as Chris was safe.

Her brother was the only family she had ever left after the death of their parents. Chris had done the role of both father and mother to her. He helped her go through college by sending in what's left of his salary and their parents' insurance. He also never failed to call in every week to check in with her once in awhile.

"Except he hadn't called in for about a month." she lowly muttered.

Claire tried to convince herself that she was just being paranoid. Her brother might have hit it up with fellow S.T.A.R.S member, Jill Valentine. Perhaps something came up with the suspension of their team and his time had eaten up whatever's left of it to call her. However, after sending in three letters and many unanswered phone calls, she decided to call in directly the R.P.D.

What she got instead was a busy line and a small city like Raccoon had a voice-mail answering system set up to field calls. She also called in a few friends and places her brother gave to her in cases of emergency. Barry Burton, Emmy's Diner, some cop she'd never met named David Ford. She even tried Billy Rabbitson's number, although Chris had told her that he'd disappeared a few months earlier. And except for an overloaded answering machine at David Ford's house, she'd gotten nothing but busy signals.

Claire took it upon herself to see and check it out herself. The trip itself is only six and a half-hour from her university. She took the helmet and went her way.

"I'll arrive at the station, find Chris, endure an earful and laugh about this at the end. Until then, I won't find a moment's peace..."

The brunette forced herself to concentrate on the road ahead. It is getting dark but she will be in Raccoon City before dawn falls.

* * *

Claire had arrived at the city, seeing a couple of people wandering the streets but not as many as it should be. Nighttime came when she got here and while there aren't any vehicles and the lack of traffic itself, she found it a bit unsettling. She'd planned to directly head to Chris's apartment but then she remembered that she'd pass by Emmy's. The brunette might also ask the waiters if they had seen Chris around.

She came to a halt in front, put down the stand and got off the Harley. She removed her helmet and set it down to the seat and the garbage emanated a disgusting smell. Whatever it was, they didn't dispose of it properly. Claire peered out of the door and the well-lit restaurant with its red stools at the counter to the padded booths, she didn't see any soul around.

She opened the door, hearing its bell ring and she head straight. There should be at least one or two people around even if it's empty and the restaurant's also open if the sign in the entrance were to go. Maybe the staff is in the kitchen?

'What's with all the mess here?'

Menus were scattered on the floor, an overturned pitcher and the revolting stench just indicate that something was amiss. From the hidden space at the end of the counter, she heard a soft shuffle. Somebody was there definitely and Claire called out loudly.

"Hello?"

There was no reply and she froze at her place. Next to a cart loaded with trays was a bald man in white with his back on her. He was crouched over the body of a woman but there was something wrong about her…

The head was missing.

When she saw it, she wanted to know what and why it happened. Claire doesn't even know whether to ask if they need help of any sort and the man let out a low wail. He was eating the waitress. His thick fingers were clotted with dark bits of tissue; the strange and alien face he raised into view was smeared with blood.

Zombie.

With that, realization instantly came the horror and the brunette stumbled backwards. The cook stood up, his hands clenched into fists began to walk towards her, and Claire backed up, almost slipping to a menu.

'I better get the fuck out of here!'

A shot of adrenaline bolted through her as she spun, snatched at the handle… and screamed a short, sharp cry of horror. There were two, three more of them outside, their disintegrating flesh pressed to the glass front of the diner.

One of them had only one eye, a suppurating hole where the other should have been; another had no upper lip, a ragged, permanent grin scrawled across its lower jaw. They clawed mindlessly at the windows, their ashy, ravaged faces awash with blood - and from the shadows across the street, dark shapes shambled out into the open.

'It can't end like this,'

From the edge of her vision, a green sign with the word 'Exit' became a beacon of hope. Claire made a mad dash towards, it's either the way out or she will be a meal to these zombies if it's locked. She slammed the door open, crashing into the walls of the alley.

She found herself with a weird-looking gun in her face. She raised her hands instinctively as if to ward a blow.

"Wait, don't shoot!" she exclaimed.

The gunman instantly yanked her hand, closing the door behind her. Claire turned back to the man who'd saved her life, and his white uniform registered for the first time. He was young, tall - and almost as tired as she felt, his upper lip beaded with sweat, his silver eyes wide and unblinking. His voice, at least, was strong and sure as he reached down to help her up.

"We need to get out of here, this place is crawling with zombies!"

As he spoke, moans of the undead came from every direction, she took relief that the man was distraught just as she was.

"Wait, I have a motorcycle parked in front, we can use that to escape here."

"Alright, I'll provide cover for us."

They both ran from heaps of dumpsters and garbage plastic, shots rang out from the gunman's weapon.

"There!"

The brunette pointed at the lone vehicle and a feeling of hope came over them. There was three undead and the gunman shot their legs, slowing their advance. The girl ran for it, taking the keys out of her pockets. He kept his weapon pointed to the ones that came from the restaurant.

"Got it!" the girl said, putting the helmet over her head. "Come on!"

The motorcycle spun away from the scene. The creatures were scattered but persistent, dark and shambling monsters that staggered out into the street as if drawn to the sound of the speeding vehicle.

"What the hell is going on!? I arrived here only to find the city and its inhabitants like this!?"

"Yeah, I was just about to ask for some info about the city only to find zombies everywhere." the man stated.

He surely didn't expect to be immediately thrown out to a situation like this. One moment he was inside a coffin, then he heard some loud voices and a fiery explosion. He woke up only to find himself in a dark forest with an aching body and head. The lights nearby prompt him to move and gather some info as to where and when he was now.

When he arrived at the back of the restaurant, the first person he went to turned out to be a zombie. His instinct flared and he summoned two of his weapons, shooting it to death. His action didn't go unnoticed when groups of them began to come out of the woodwork.

He opted not to use the weapon and decided to camp into the restaurant, hoping that someone could fill him in. What he got instead is a frightened teenager.

'The comms are out and I can't contact the doctor nor the director. I better stick around with this girl, she looks like knows the area.'

"So, who are you?" the brunette asked, her eyes still on the road.

"Shirou Emiya, you?"

"Claire Redfield, I'm here looking for my brother."

For a moment, silence fell over them. Whatever happened to Raccoon City didn't matter too much as long as they survive.

"Attention all citizens, due to the citywide outbreak, all citizens are advised to take shelter at the Raccoon City police station. Free food and medicine will be provided to anyone in need." the announcement rang out all over the place.

"That's good news, we might find survivors in there as well," Shirou spoke out.

"Hopefully, my brother as well. He's a cop stationed in this city."

As the brunette took the corner of Main and 25th avenue, a blockade of wrecked cars impeded their advance. A burning tanker and a police car were also in the way and the silver-haired man examined it. There's no way to get around them and the zombies are slow in their advance when they heard the engine.

"We have to leg it from here, Ms. Redfield."

She didn't bother to argue with him and as much as she hated to leave her motorcycle here, it won't compare if she survived and find Chris in this city. Claire and Shirou ran to the alleyway, avoiding the hordes of the zombies.

* * *

The duo made it with the silver-haired man firing whatever kind of gun he was holding now. It was some kind of a handgun with a blade attached underneath its barrel. She didn't want to question it too much, maybe she can ask him about its origins? Her brother did teach her how to handle firearms and it rubbed off on her just like her love for motorcycles.

She was so busy watching the street and trying to sort through all that had happened, she almost ran right past the police station. She'd been here before but she didn't go through the back.

"Here we are, Raccoon City Station."

She led him through a small parking lot and some kind of an equipment shed that opened into a tiny paved courtyard. They weaved past the two zombie cops and unknown to Shirou, a wailing dead woman with one limply hanging arm and a gore-streaked, shredded tank top reached out from the shadows at the base of the stairs and brushed at his arm with cold and scabby fingers.

The young man was disarmed of his weapon as it slid in front of the surprised brunette. She picked it up and aimed it at the zombie who was wrestled in between the young man's hand and fingers. Claire pulled the trigger and a loud gunfire echoed around, allowing her companion to deliver a roundhouse at the zombie. The head detached from its body and he shoved it away, surely a headless body won't be a danger anymore.

"Thanks, I owe you one-"

Shirou looked at Claire whose hands were trembling and it might have dawned on the poor girl what she had done. She stared at the gun she held and at him, the weapon dropped to the ground. Claire tried to calm herself down, what she did was different from the ones before. Shooting range and paper targets are nothing compare to just shooting a human. They don't bleed nor spew flesh when shot.

"Ms. Redfield!" she heard her name being called out by him. "It's fine, okay? It's either us or them… and they don't hesitate and there's no time for remorse too."

The brunette only gave a nod and the shaking of her body stopped. "I must say, that was some impressive shooting. Where'd you learn to shoot?"

"From my brother, we spend most of our time in a range." she can still remember the first time Chris taught her to use a 9mm.

"You're lucky, his lessons saved my life. Once we find him, I must extend my gratitude to him as well." he smiled at her and that's when she noticed how dazzling his smile was that she couldn't help but flush a bit.

'Dammit, don't act like a heart struck maiden! You're here to find your brother and get the hell out of here, not to flirt with some random stranger! Besides, with his looks, he might already have a girlfriend.'

"Let's see, it will benefit if you have your own weapon," his eyes caught the body of a dead officer nearby. Shirou grabbed the black gun from the ground and slowly approached it, kicking the body to make sure it wouldn't do anything. He flipped it over with his foot and aimed at its head, another loud shot rang just to ensure. After doing so, he began to search for its pockets and to his luck, he found a 9mm handgun and two full clips as well.

"Here, take this," he gave the gun to the brunette who checked the weapon, turning it's safety switch on as well. She also kept the magazines in her pockets. "You hear that?"

"What is it?" There is still some ringing when she fired the weapon and it messed up her hearing a bit.

They both jogged up, a whipping sound reverberated around and the giant black helicopter came into view. It was near the water tower that bordered the helipad though he doesn't know whether it's leaving or landing in.

"Hey!" she shouted, raising both of her hands in the air. "Over here!"

A blaring searchlight snapped on from the midsection of the hovering bird, scrawled across the roof and was going in the wrong direction, away from them.

Shirou joined in on her attempt to grab the attention of the pilot. Claire draws in breath to call out again and saw what the spotlight saw, even as she heard the desperate, mostly unintelligible shout beneath the chopper's roar. A man, a cop, standing at the helipad's corner opposite the stairs, back against an elevated section of the roof. He held what looked like a machine gun and appeared to be very much alive.

"-get over here-"

The officer shouted at the helicopter, his voice tinged with panic. The young man saw why and felt his relief evaporate. Two zombies were lurching through the darkness of the helipad, headed for the well-lit target that was the shouting cop.

A low moan came from the back and the brunette saw the two zombie officers in range. She raised the nine-millimeter and they both unleash lead to the rotting bodies.

The spotlight didn't waver, illuminating the horror with brilliant clarity. The cop didn't seem to realize how close the zombies were until they were grabbing for him, their stringy arms extending into the beam of fixed white light.

"Stay back! Don't come any closer!" the cop cried and with the pure terror in his voice. Just like Shirou heard his howling scream as the two decaying figures obscured their view, reaching the poor soul at the same time.

The sound of his automatic weapon ripped across the helipad, and even over the helicopter's clamor Claire could hear the whining ting of bullets flying wild. She looked up and saw the chopper dip down, it's back end, wildly swinging around.

"Looks like that cop might have hit them."

The spotlight went crazy in all directions as it came down, crashing down to the concrete walls. The explosion happened just as the mammoth machine slid to a stop against the southwest corner directly on top of the fallen cop and his killers. The nose of the chopper plunged through the wall, disappearing from their sights.

"We won't be going through there," Claire said and Shirou gazed at the entrance of the RPD station then back at her. "Yeah, it looks like we'll have to go and knock in the front doors."

They both walked towards it, scanning the shadows for movement. The young man reached for the door with his weapon ready.

"You ready for this, Ms. Redfield?"

"Ready as I'll ever be…"

He nodded and slipped inside with the brunette glancing outside one last time before following him.

* * *

**RPD Station: Rooftop**

The duo stealthily walked into the silent hallway full of broken glass and a dead cop. The brunette's fears of the station's safety were cemented when they pass on the dead body of a cop. They sidestep, avoiding the corpse and while there was still tension in her nerves, it wasn't prominent as before. Quite possibly since she's not the only one around.

A cool breeze emanated from the broken windows, streaks of black feathers along with bloodied prints linger in every direction. Such sights didn't bother him as he was somewhat accustomed to it, he cannot say the same to the one beside him. By her looks alone, he can tell that she's a year or two younger than him.

The way the helicopter was buried inside the building brought a vision of it going up to flames. The appeal of getting eaten or be burned alive won't go well with him anyway. The corridor dead-ended at a door that felt cool to the touch. Mentally crossing her fingers, Claire opened it and the smell of burnt metal and wood permeated the air. The crackle of the flames along with the moans of the undead below registered as well.

"We ain't going through that." the brunette said.

"Agree, by the looks of it, we can actually push the chopper a bit just enough to allow a small passage between."

"A fire extinguisher is what we need then, there's gotta be one around nearby."

Claire nudged the door behind her only to find it locked. She pushed her body further and when it didn't open, she exerts more force to it.

"I can…" Shirou wanted to try it for himself but when Claire kicked it down with her foot, he just kept his mouth shut.

"Are you saying something?" the brunette inquired.

"Nothing, let me help you find it. Saves us the time as well."

It was just an ordinary one with a few couches and a small desk. There's also an old typewriter and a telephone at the counter. He tried to utilize it, hearing only dead air on the other line. With a sigh, he puts it down as he resumes his search.

"So, what brings you here anyway?" she asked.

The young man paused for awhile, surely he cannot tell her that he came from another world with the use of magic and technology. She will surely think of him as a craze lunatic if that ever happens. He must concoct at least a good reason as to why he got here in the first place.

"Few of my friends decided to camp out here but they played a prank by leaving me all by myself. Being a stranger around here, I decided to just follow the trail and found myself here."

"They're kind of dicks, aren't they?" she told him and he was a bit taken aback by her brash response. But then again, he had dealt with Claire's kind before.

"I guess…"

The brunette checked out the shelves beneath the counter, finding a phone book, papers, and some dusty old books. A streak of red caught her vision, just exactly what they needed.

"Found it."

"Let's proceed then."

With the extinguisher in her hand, she snuffed out the flames, covering her nose to avoid inhaling it. The flames weren't bad as it turned out to be and she saw the blackened expression of the dead pilot. Whether it was a man or woman, they'll never know since the fire ate away anything that can identify the body.

Shirou checked if there's anything amiss. He nodded and began to push the wreckage out of the way. He pushed with all his might and he felt it move a bit, slightly pausing to catch his breath.

"Need an extra hand?" Claire offered but he turned it down immediately. He pushed yet again, using his back to support and prevent it from crushing him.

"G-Go!" he ordered and the brunette made haste, fitting herself into the small gap that her companion made. When she had gone through, the young man ducked out of the way as he joined her.

"You're pretty strong, eh?" she commented.

"Thanks, glad to know my hellish workout is now paying off."

A short and empty hallway greeted the two, filled with jagged wood and bits of debris from the crash. There's also a door on the left and the silver-haired man cupped his ear to listen if there are zombies on the other side.

He signaled to ready her gun as he slowly turned the knob with his own gun in hand. He rushed in, pointing it at whatever danger lurking in. She came in as well, expecting one or two zombies around. However, they were a bit taken aback by the lavishness of the room. Mahogany bookshelves and a center table surrounded by a red sofa decorated all over. An expensive chandelier hangs from the ceiling, illuminating the room.

"What the?" Claire muttered when she saw the body of a blonde woman in a white gown. Her guts spilled to the ground while being watched by the lifeless eagles, falcons, mounted deer heads and a nappy furred moose.

Shirou aimed at the swivel chair as it began to turn around, expecting it to be a zombie. They found themselves face to face with a man, a gun also pointed at the brunette. Upon seeing them, he lowered his weapon, a sickly smile forming in his features.

"Pardon me, I thought you were one of those things lurking outside."

Despite not knowing who this guy was, she remembered how Chris described the police chief. Fat, mustachioed and slick as a snakes oil salesman, they all somewhat fit the police chief, Brian Irons.

He noticed the paranoia in the guy's eyes, he surely seen the zombies frolicking around the station. However, he had this feeling of uneasiness with the way he's looking at the corpse of the woman.

"Are you Chief Irons?" she asked, wanting to confirm her guess about his identity.

"That would be me, and who are you supposed to be?" Before they could introduce themselves, the chief went on. "Doesn't matter, you'll end up like her as well."

Perhaps he had judged him too fast? In a place filled with the smell of death, god knows what he had gone through and the things he had seen. "That's the mayor's daughter… I was supposed to protect her but…"

"We're sorry for your…" she was interrupted when Irons rambled on.

"Just look at her, her skin so white and soft nothing but perfection. However, all of it will go and she will be like one of them."

This guy is a creep after all. That wistful longing in his voice and the hungry stare reminded him of certain people in the past.

'You're just imagining things, Claire. This guy is your brother's boss and not some lunatic pervert. He probably knows some kind of information, don't waste this opportunity.'

"Maybe we can still help her?" she gently said.

"Yes, there is, by decapitating or shooting her in the head," Irons stated and the brunette felt a nudge from behind. Shirou signaled her to just leave the man alone.

The chief turned to gaze at the stuffed creatures perched on the edge of his desk, his voice taking on a resigned but somehow mirthful quality.

"And to think taxidermy used to be my hobby. No longer…" the man looked at the brunette and she didn't like it one bit. His dark and beady gaze focused on her body and she realized that he hadn't asked how they got here or the smoke outside of his office. With the way he also gaze at the body of the girl, she didn't see any remorse. Only self-pity and twisted admiration towards it.

"Maybe we should get moving, Ms. Redfield. This guy is on his wit's end." he whispered.

A million questions that she wanted answers, many of which she thought that the chief can answer. Nonetheless, his creepiness just rubbed her off completely, she just needs to get away from Irons… for now.

"Just leave me alone…" he ran his hands at his head.

A soft creak caught the attention of the silver-haired man, noticing another door at the office where the sound came from.

'Is something in here?' he looked back at the man behind the swivel chair, unaware of what he had heard. He'd probably gone back to his own musings.

"There's another door here we can check out. I doubt that guy would give us any help, he's occupied too much on that woman."

She agreed with his words, there's no gain or loss she would have if the chief came with them. But if there are other people in the station, they might be able to help them. Having supplies like first aid, guns and bullets will be beneficial in the long run.

"Alright, I'll lead the way."

Claire took one last glance at Irons and tagged along with Shirou as they head to the unknown part of the station once more.

* * *

This story will be based upon the Leon A/ Claire B path of the original game. There might be some deviations as well so better watch out for those too. Will primarily focused on Claire and Shirou though there will be perspective shifts from other characters as well.


	2. Chapter 2

The Resident Evil franchise is owned by Capcom. The Fate series is owned by Type-Moon. Any characters mentioned here are not mine and are a work of fiction.

* * *

Sherry Birkin had been hiding in the station for almost four days, she hasn't seen her mother yet and worse of all, her guardian, a teacher from her school - Mrs. Addison - was eaten by a zombie. Not long after that, she found a ventilation shaft that ran over most of the building. It was better for her to hide, away from death and also another monster, scarier than the zombies and the inside out men, following her. She did not think of that because it is stupid for anyone of them to pick on a twelve-year-old girl.

That's she had hidden here in the room full of knights where the only way to get in is the ventilation shaft. There is another way though it was guarded by a stuffed tiger and while it's not alive or anything, it was intimidating on its own. The station was overrun by zombies and most of the time she had spent was to sleep. Whenever she drifts off to sleep, she doesn't get stressed out

Sherry had plenty to eat in the candy machine downstairs but she didn't venture too much. Whenever she heard that monster, she hid in the vents, catching only a glimpse of its broad back in the steel grate. It screamed out and she knew that it was hungry, terrible and violent.

Most of the time, it will disappear on its own, only to come back a few hours later. No matter where she is, the monster is always nearby. The loud noises woke her up and she'd huddle herself up, ready to scurry back to the shaft as she heard the walls being destroyed. For a long time, she squeezed her eyes shut, holding onto the golden pendant that her mother gave to her. She had considered it a good luck charm since it stopped the loud thumping noises. Perhaps, the stuffed tiger scared the monster too as well?

Either way, whenever there's silence or her breathing itself, Sherry felt safe enough to come out and listen to the hall. The zombies and the inside out men cannot utilize doors and if it's the monster, it would have come clawing its way in.

Halfway down the hall, she heard people in but she couldn't hear what they're saying. It was the first time she'd heard anybody who wasn't screaming in the past two days. If there were people, maybe help finally came into the city.

'Perhaps the army, military or Marines finally arrive.'

She hurriedly down the hall and was next to the big snarling tiger, right by the door, when her excitement faltered. The voices stopped and Sherry stood still if there was help indeed wouldn't there be any indication of it? Guns, bombs, loudspeakers telling everybody to get out.

Not long after she had gone into hiding, she'd saw a female officer through the grating in a locker room. The woman rocked back and forth with an unstable look in her eyes. At first, she thought she can ask the officer to help her search for her parents. However, the inaudible mumbling and the looks of the officer made her hesitant.

The woman took out a knife in her pockets, keeping it to herself as she rocked back and forth. Sherry had been more scared by that woman than the zombies, because it didn't make sense. She'd been crazy, and she'd killed herself and she'd crawled away, crying because it just didn't make any sense.

She didn't want to meet anyone else like that. And even if the people in the office were okay, they might take her away from her safe place and try to protect her - and that would mean her death because the monster surely wasn't afraid of adults.

It felt awful to turn away, but there was no other choice. Sherry started back for the armor room…

_*creak!*_

…and froze as the floor shifted underfoot. The sound of the creaking board seems incredibly loud and she held her breath, clutching her pendant and praying that the door wouldn't come flying open behind her, that some crazy wouldn't charge in and get her.

She didn't hear anything but felt sure that the pounding of her heart would give her away, it was so loud. After ten seconds, she carefully started back down the hall, stepping as lightly as she could, feeling like she was creeping out of a cave filled with sleeping snakes. The hall back to the armor room seemed like it was a mile long and she had to use all of her willpower not to run once she reached the turn. But if there was one thing she'd learned from the movies and TV, it was that running from danger always meant a horrible death.

When she finally reached the entrance back to the armor room, she felt like she might just collapse from relief. She was safe again, she could snuggle back into the old blanket that Mrs. Addison had found for her and just…

The door from the office opened and closed and a second later, there were footsteps.

'They're coming for her.'

Sherry flew into the armor room, no longer thinking about anything at all in the bright and trembling crush of panic that swept through her. She sprinted past the three knights, forgetting her safe place because all she knew is that she had to get away as far away as possible. There was a dark, tiny chamber past the glass case in the middle of the room and darkness was what she needed, a shadow to disappear into and she could hear the running footsteps somewhere behind her, pounding over wood as she hurtled into the darkroom and into the farthest corner.

Sherry crouched down between the dusty brick of the room's fireplace and the padded chair beside it and tried to make herself as small as possible, hugging her knees and hiding her face.

"You hear that?" a man's voice registered to her ears.

"Seriously? We just enter here and you already picked up something?" another voice chimed in, coming from a woman.

'Please, please, please… don't come in, don't see me, I'm not here…'

The running footsteps had come into the armor room and were slow now, hesitant, moving around the big glass case in the middle. Sherry thought of her safe place, the mouth of the ventilation shaft that could have taken her away, and struggled to hold back hot tears of self-condemnation. The fireplace room had no escape; she was trapped.

Each hollow, thumping step brought the strangers closer to the darkroom in which Sherry hid. She scrunched herself tighter, making promises that she would do anything, anything at all if only the strangers would go away…

Suddenly, the room flashed into blinding brightness, the soft click of the light switch lost beneath Sherry's terrified cry. She pushed away from her corner and run, screaming and unseeing, hoping to get past the stranger and back to the air that and a warm hand grabbed her arm, tight, keeping her from going one more step. She screamed again, jerking as hard as she could, but the stranger was strong…

"Wait!" it was a lady, the voice almost as frantic as Sherry's hammering heart.

"Let me go," Sherry wailed, but the lady is still holding on, even pulling her closer.

"Easy, easy - I'm not a zombie, take it easy, it's okay…"

The woman's voice had turned soothing, the words crooned gently, the hand on Sherry's wrist warm and strong. The sweet, musical voice repeated the gentle words again and again.

"Easy, it's okay, we're not going to hurt you, you're safe now."

Sherry finally looked at the lady and saw how pretty she was, how her eyes were soft with concern and sympathy. Just like that, Sherry stopped trying to get away and felt the hot tears trickle down her face, tears that she'd been holding back ever since she'd seen the red-haired man commit suicide. She instinctively hugged the young, pretty stranger and the lady hugged her back, her slender arms tight across Sherry's trembling shoulders.

Sherry cried for a couple of minutes, letting the woman stroke her hair and whisper soothing words to her - and at last, she felt like the worst was over. As much as she wanted to crawl into the lady's arms and forget all of her fears, to believe that she was safe, she knew better. And besides, she wasn't a baby anymore; she'd turned twelve last month.

With an effort, Sherry stepped away from the woman and wiped her eyes, looking up into her pretty face. The woman wasn't that old, maybe only twenty or so, and was dressed really cool - boots and cutoff pink denim shorts and a matching vest with no sleeves. She wore her shiny brown hair in a ponytail, and when she smiled, she looked like a movie star.

The woman crouched down right in front of her, still smiling gently. "My name's Claire and this is Shirou."

The pretty lady was accompanied by a male who wore a white uniform. His hair is red in color. He also has a strange-looking weapon in his hands and he has this serious expression, making him a bit intimidating. When he noticed her, she fumbled a bit and hid behind Claire.

"Why don't you try smiling at least? The kid's already scared and that expression of yours is not helping."

"Sorry, I just want to make sure that no one will jump on us, you know? But it's nice to see you, kiddo."

Sherry felt shy suddenly, embarrassed for running and trying to get away from such nice persons. Her parents had often told her that she acted as an emotional baby, that she was 'too imaginative' for her own good, and here was proof; Claire and Shirou weren't going to hurt her, she could tell.

"Sherry Birkin," she said and smiled at the brunette, hoping that Claire wasn't mad at her; she didn't look mad. In fact, she looked pleased with her answer.

"Wait… Birkin?" the redhead said, going down on his knee and stared at the 12-year-old. "Is your parents' name, William and Annette?" the girl merely nodded at his words.

"Do you know where your parents are?" he asked.

"They work at the Umbrella chemical plant, just outside of town," Sherry said. "My mom called and told me to go to the police station. She said it was too dangerous to stay at home."

"You know her parents?" the brunette asked and Shirou nodded.

"From the look of things, she was probably right. But it's dangerous here, as well…"

Claire frowned thoughtfully, then smiled again.

"You'd better come with us."

Sherry felt a cold knot tighten in her stomach and shook her head, wondering how to explain to them that it wasn't a good idea, that it was a very bad idea. She wanted more than anything not to be alone anymore, but it just wasn't safe.

'If I go with them and the monster finds us...'

Claire would be killed and although she was thin, Sherry was pretty sure that Claire wouldn't be able to fit in the ventilation shaft. Shirou while has a weapon with him, cannot defeat the monster alone with it.

"There's something out there," she finally said. "I saw it, it's bigger than the zombies and it's coming after me."

Claire shook her head, opening her mouth to say something, probably to try and talk her into changing her mind, when a terrible, furious sound filled the room, echoing in violent waves from somewhere in the building.

"_Rrraaahh…" _

Sherry felt her blood turn to ice. Claire's eyes went wide, her skin paling. The redhead readied his weapon and tried to make out where it came from. "What was that?"

Sherry backed away, breathless, in her mind already running for the safe place behind the three suits of armor.

"That's what I was telling you," she gasped out and before Claire could stop her, she turned and ran.

"Sherry!"

The girl ignored the shouted plea, sprinting past the glass exhibit case for the safety of the air shaft. She leaped nimbly over the knight's pedestal and dropped to her hands and knees, ducking her head and scrambling into the ancient stone hole set into the base of the wall.

Her only chance, Claire and Shirou's only chance, was for Sherry to get as far away from them as possible. Maybe they would find each other again when the monster had gone.

As Sherry crawled quickly through the tight and winding darkness, she hoped it wasn't already too late.

"That girl is going to get herself killed."

"We should go after her then."

"Hold up, " the redhead intervened. "You sure about this? I mean, you're here to find your brother in the first place. You gonna put that away just to search for this girl you barely knew?"

"I do and Chris will also do the right thing in this situation. If you don't want to come, that's fine to me." she was about to leave when she glanced back at him. "Good luck, Shirou. I'll see you around… if you're alive and not a zombie, I guess."

The determination he saw in the brunette's eyes reminded him of his past. When he was still a somewhat brash individual who will go out on his way to help anyone. Not that it changes but at this point he became more calculating to situations. Perhaps, it's because of her somehow rambunctious nature that made him go with her.

Will he be able to live with the fact that he let a helpless teenager especially a girl on her own?

'Yes, just like the numerous ones you left behind!' a loud and somehow mocking voice screamed at him.

"Wait, Ms. Redfield…" the brunette who was about to leave stopped in her tracks. "I'll go with you."

She huffed and crossed her arms. "I'll let you come with me under one condition. "Stop with the Ms. Redfield thing, eh? Just call me by my first name, okay."

"Oh, erm… alright… I can definitely do that, Claire."

She smiled at his reply and checked the gun, she still has some bullets and a full clip to her. The brunette kinda wishes that they ran into any weapon cache, she wouldn't mind having a shotgun or even an SMG with her.

He, on the other hand, fiddled with the watch, his only way of communicating with his superiors back in his world. He constantly pours his od to the device, to at least let them know where he was or if they would ever bother to find his location.

* * *

Ada Wong sat in the cluttered desk in the office of the Chief of Detectives, resting her aching feet and staring blankly at the empty steel safe in the corner. Her patience wore thin. Not only was the G-Virus sample nowhere to be found, but she was also beginning to think that Bertolucci had flown the coop. She'd gone through the break room, the S.T.A.R.S. office, the library - in fact, she was pretty sure she'd covered just about everywhere the reporter would have had easy access to, and had used two full clips to do it.

It wasn't that she was low on ammo, it was the waste of time that the bullets represented: twenty-six rounds and no results, except that there were a dozen more virus-riddled corpses laid around.

The Asian-American shuddered, remembering the warp red flesh and trumpeting shrieks of the bizarre creatures that she'd shot in the press room. She'd never been particularly bothered by greed, corporate or otherwise, but Umbrella had been up to some seriously immoral experimentation.

There were this long-tongued, clawed, bloody humanoids that are an affront to her sensibilities. Not to mention a lot harder to kill than the virus carriers. If they were T-Virus products, she'd have to keep her fingers crossed that Birkin hadn't done anything with his newest creation.

She let her gaze wander, taking in the plain, functional office. It wasn't the most inspiring environment to take a break-in, but at least it was reasonably gore-free; with the door closed, she could hardly smell the officers in the main part of the room. They'd been pretty far gone when she'd put them down, that bonelessly wet stage that apparently preceded the total collapse.

She wished she'd bothered to learn more on the science end; she knew what the T-Virus was used for, but hadn't thought it necessary to research the physio-chemical effects. Why bother, when she had no reason to think that Umbrella had been planning to spill a shitload of it in their hometown?

She was getting plenty of firsthand information about how well it worked, but it would have been nice to know exactly what happened in the infected party's body and mind, which turned them from a person into a mindless flesh-eater. Instead, she could only file away her observations and make guesses at the truth.

From what she'd seen, it took less than an hour for someone infected to turn into a zombie. Sometimes the victim went into a kind of fever-coma first, which presumably burnt out parts of the brain and only added to the impression that they were waking from the dead when they stood up and began to look for fresh meat.

The symptoms of the virus were the same for everyone, but not the infection rate; she'd seen at least three cases where the victim had turned bloodthirsty within a couple of moments of being infected, the stage she'd started to think of as "going cataract." One of the few constants was that their eyes clouded with a thin film of eggy white mucous when they turned and although the physical deterioration always started immediately, some fell to pieces much faster than others…

She sighed, bending over to rub her toes. True enough. Still, it was something to think about. Focusing on staying alive is tiring and all-encompassing work; she didn't have a chance to consider the subtleties of the circumstances while clearing out corridors.

She was on break, and she needed to let her brain run around a bit, ponder a few of the job's more puzzling aspects. And there are about a thousand to mull over…

S.T.A.R.S. - what had happened to the unit?

Ada leaned back, rolling her head tiredly before pushing herself off the desk and stepping back into her uncomfortable shoes. Enough downtime, she couldn't spare her aches and pains more than a few minutes and didn't expect to figure out much of anything until she was well away from Raccoon. She still had a couple of areas to check for Bertolucci before heading into the sewers, and she'd noticed that some of the first-floor window barricades weren't as solid as she might have hoped; she didn't want to end up blocked out of a path by a new group of carriers from outside.

There were the "secret" passages on the east side, and the holding cells downstairs past the parking garage. If she couldn't find him in either of those places, she'd have to assume he'd left the station and concentrate her efforts on obtaining the sample.

She decided to try the basement first; it seemed unlikely that he'd stumbled across the hidden corridors. From what she'd read of his work, he wasn't a good enough reporter to find his own ass. And if he was hiding in or near the holding cells, she wouldn't have to spend any more time roaming the station, facing the inevitable invasion; the entrance into the subbasement was downstairs, so barring any complications, she could head straight for the lab.

Ada walked out of the office, wrinkling her nose at the fresh burst of rotting smell pushed at her by the lazily spinning ceiling fans. There had to be seven or eight bodies in the desk-filled room, all of the cops, and at least the three that she'd shot had been fairly rank…

'…and didn't I leave five carriers still walking around in here when I came through before?'

She paused just outside the large and open room, looking back in from the narrow connecting corridor that led to the back stairs. Had there been five? She knew she'd capped a couple on her first visit; the rest had been too slow to hassle with, and she thought there'd been five of them. And yet she'd only had to knock off three when she had returned for her impromptu break.

'There were five. I may not be at peak, but I can still count.'

She wasn't in the habit of doubting her ability to keep track of such things, and the fact that she'd only just noticed was a sign of how tired she was; two days ago, she would have made the observation immediately. There was no way to tell if the additional corpses had been shot or had simply disintegrated on their own without exposing herself to contact - they were too messed up, but it would be wisest to assume that there were still a few survivors wandering around.

Not for long, one way or another…

Whether or not the zombies managed to break through, Umbrella would act soon, if they hadn't already. What had happened in Raccoon was a shareholder's worst nightmare and Umbrella certainly isn't going to ignore the problem; they'd probably already worked up a fail-safe disaster and prepared their own spin to feed to the press. It was a foregone conclusion that they'd try to salvage Birkin's synthesis before putting their fail-safe into effect, which meant that she'd have to be very careful.

'A team of human beings, hopefully. I can handle that. A Tyrant, though… I don't need that kind of pain.'

Ada turned away from the room, walking toward the closed door that would lead her to the basement steps. Tyrant was the code name for a particular series in Umbrella's organic weapons research, a series that embodied the most destructive applications of the T-Virus. According to her 'sources', Umbrella scientists - the one's working in the secret labs - had just started tests on a kind of humanoid bloodhound, designed to hunt down any assigned scent or substance it had been encoded for with relentless and inhuman capabilities. A Tyrant, a nearly indestructible construct of infected flesh and surgically implanted wiring - just the kind of thing that they might send in to find, say, a sample of the G-Virus or take out potential witnesses.

Once she collected the sample, she was history, paid and drinking margaritas on a beach somewhere.

And anything she might or might not feel about it, about how many innocents had died, it's just one of things that she doesn't need in her line of work.

* * *

This is not the kind of work that rookie cop, Leon S. Kennedy expected when he arrived in Raccoon City. Sure he was late for about two hours on his first day of work but he didn't expect to find the city itself in ruins and these… zombies around. He heard the announcement that any refugees can come to the station for help. When he went their, he didn't find anything not anyone for that matter.

He did find a fellow senior officer in one of the rooms of RPD though he was wounded. As much as he hated to leave Marvin Branagh behind to at least treat his wounds, he's far too gone now. He filled him in on what happened to the city, the suspension of the S.T.A.R.S unit, the alleged mishandling of the Arklay murders and Umbrella being the one behind all of this.

'That explains the sudden hiring of new police recruits.' Leon thought to himself.

Leon stood in the ransacked basement weapons locker, adjusting the holster straps and thinking about where other survivors might be. From what little he'd seen so far, the station wasn't too bad. Cold and dim and stinking of the bodies heaped in the hallways, but not as actively dangerous as the streets. It wasn't much to be grateful for, but he'd take what he could get.

He'd killed two of his fellow officers and a woman in the tatters of a traffic patrol uniform on his way to the basement - the cops upstairs and the woman just outside the morgue, a few yards from the small room that housed the RPD armament. Only three zombies since he'd reached the station, not including the few he'd been able to avoid in the detectives' room, but he'd passed over a dozen corpses on the short journey and had been able to make out the bullet holes on about half of them, through the eyes or directly to the temple.

Between the cleanly 'dispatched' creatures and the number of weapons missing from the lockers, he dared to hope that Branagh had been right about there being survivors.

'Will Marvin turn into a zombie? If Umbrella is the one behind this virus, how do I know I've been in contact with it? Do you get it by being bitten or worse… it might even be airborne?'

The thought of being a zombie and feasting on the flesh of others send a dread to him. He looked at his handgun and gulped if he did make contact with the virus… he can end himself with a bullet in his brain.

'If it's come down to that, I don't even know if I can pull it myself. If I survived somehow, this is something I can tell to my grandkids.'

Leon nodded to himself, sighing. A better plan than worrying about it, and he now had the equipment to boost his chances. The electronic lock for the weapons store had been shot through, saving him from having to go searching for a key card or shooting it himself; the door had obviously been pried open, the external locks and handle practically shredded.

On his first dig through the room, he'd been disappointed, and not a little freaked. There had been no handguns at all and very little ammo left in the dented green lockers - but he had found a box of shotgun shells, and after a second, more desperately thorough search, he'd uncovered a twelve-gauge hidden behind a high stack of boxes. There were a couple of shoulder harnesses for the Remington model still hanging on a wall hook, as well as a bigger utility belt than the one he already wore; it even had a side pack deep enough to hold all of the loaded Magnum clips.

With a final cinch on the harness, he decided that it would be best to start searching the most obvious places first, every connecting corridor from every possible entrance. He'd head back to the lobby first, find something to leave a note on…

***Bam! Bam! Bam!***

Shots fired, close, and the echoing tone said it was the garage just down the hall. The rookie yanked the Magnum out and ran for the door, precious seconds wasted as he fumbled at the mangled handle.

The hall was clear, except for the dead traffic cop on the floor to his right. Straight ahead was the entrance to the parking garage, and Leon hurried toward it, reminding himself that he wanted to go in easy, that he didn't want to get shot by a panicked gunman.

'Take it slow, get a good look before you move, identify yourself clearly…'

The door, set into the wall to his right, was standing open and as Leon darted a look into wide and open space, his body shielded by the concrete-block wall, he saw something that startled him into forgetting about the shooter.

'What the hell is up with these dogs!?'

Impossible - but the sprawled, lifeless animal in the middle of the car-lined chamber looked the same.

Even with the barest glimpse he'd had before, the slimy wet demon in canine form that had nearly scared him into a crash ten miles outside the city could have come from the same litter. Beneath the sputtering fluorescent strips that lit the cold, oil-stained garage, Leon could see how truly abnormal it was.

There didn't seem to be anything moving, and no sound except for the buzz of lights. Still holding the Magnum ready, Leon stepped into the garage, determined to get a closer look at the creature - and saw a second one next to a parked squad car, apparently just as dead as the first. Both lay in sticky red pools of their own blood, their long, skinned-looking limbs splayed brokenly.

'Umbrella. The wild animal attacks, the disease… how long has this shit been going on? And how did they manage to keep it quiet after all those murders?'

What was even more confusing is why Raccoon wasn't crawling with support services already; Umbrella may have been able to keep their involvement with the 'cannibal' murders silent, but how could they keep Raccoon's citizens from calling for help from outside the city?

And these dogs, like carbon copies… something else that Umbrella made up in their labs?

He took another step toward the fallen dog-things, frowning, not liking the dark conspiracy theories that were forming in his thoughts but unable to ignore them. What he liked even less was the look of the oil stains on the concrete floor; they were rust-colored and there were too many of the dried splotches for him to count. He bent down to get a closer look, so intent on putting to rest a sudden terrible suspicion that he didn't register the shot until he heard the high, singing whine when it blew past his head.

***Bam!***

Leon spun left, bringing the Magnum up and shouting at the same time…

"Hold your fire!"

And saw the shooter lowering her weapon, a woman in a short red dress and black leggings standing by a van against the far wall. She began to walk towards him, her slender hips rolling smoothly and her head high and shoulders back. As if they were at a cocktail party.

Leon felt a rush of anger, that she could be so calm after very nearly killing him, but as she got closer, he found himself wanting to forgive her. She was beautiful and wore an expression of genuine pleasure at seeing him; a welcome sight after so much death.

"Sorry about that," she said. "When I saw the uniform, I thought you were another zombie."

She was Asian-American, fine-boned but tall, her short hair a thick and glossy black. Her deep, satiny voice was almost a purr, a strange contrast to the way she looked at him. The slight smile she wore didn't seem to touch her almond-shaped eyes, which were scrutinizing him carefully.

"Who are you?" the rookie cop asked.

"Ada Wong."

"I'm Leon Kennedy," he said reflexively, not sure what to ask or where to start. "I… what are you doing down here?"

Ada nodded toward the van behind her, an RPD transport wagon that was blocking the holding cell area. "I came to Raccoon looking for a man, a reporter named Bertolucci; I have reason to think that he's in one of the cells, and I think he might be able to help me find my boyfriend."

Her smile faded, her sharp, almost electric gaze meeting his. "And I think he knows all about what happened here. Would you help me move the van?"

If there was a reporter locked up on the other side of the garage wall who could tell them anything at all, he was eager to meet him. He wasn't sure what to make of Ada's story, but couldn't imagine why she would lie about anything. The station wasn't safe, and she was looking for survivors, just as he was.

"Yeah, okay," he said, feeling caught off guard by her smoothly direct manner. It felt like she had taken control of their meeting, some subtle but deliberate manipulation that had put her in charge and from the casual way she turned and walked back to the van, as if there was no question that he would follow, he thought she knew it.

'Don't be paranoid; strong women do exist. And the more people we can find, the more help I can get to get civilians out here.'

Maybe it was time to stop making plans, and just try to keep up. Leon bolstered the Magnum and went after her, hoping that the reporter was where Ada thought he was and that things would start making sense, sooner rather than later.

* * *

Did anyone watch the gameplay of RE:3 Remake? Looks like it'll be tough as hell since Nemesis can run and has access to weapons. The game looks promising and can't wait to play it once it comes out in April.

As for Ada Wong's nationality, while it's never been disclosed where she was born exactly in any official sources, I'll take liberties in here for that.


End file.
